


The Tournament

by huniths-muse (sopaltenbass)



Series: Heirs of Albion [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gwaine Lives (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg, Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), merthurweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopaltenbass/pseuds/huniths-muse
Summary: Arthur holds a tournament to celebrate the fact that Merlin is carrying the next King or Queen of Camelot. Things don't go quite as he had expected.Written for MerthurWeek2020Day 3: "You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it.” + Hurt/Comfort
Relationships: Leon/Mithian (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Heirs of Albion [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838926
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	The Tournament

**Author's Note:**

> Hurt/Comfort is my jam.
> 
> Written within my HoAverse.

This was a bad idea, a very bad idea. Merlin didn't like it one bit. He watched as George helped Arthur into his armor. His husband was beaming, the idiot.

"Why are you so happy?" Merlin asked, frowning over at him and almost unconsciously cradling his still small stomach. He'd felt the child move from the outside for the first time only days ago. Now, seemingly sensing it's papa's distress, it was kicking up a storm.

"You're carrying my child, Merlin. Am I not allowed to be happy? To celebrate? This is what we've been hoping for, what the people have wanted for years, and now it's happening. Isn't it right we should celebrate?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Of course, you would see a dangerous tournament as a celebration."

"Are you worried about me?" Arthur asked, coming over to where Merlin stood. George moved with him, securing the straps on his pauldron.

"Yes," Merlin said.

"Why?" Arthur asked. "You know I never really stopped training. You encouraged me to continue."

"Yes, I did, because I know that battles are unavoidable when you have a powerful kingdom to defend. I don't want you to go looking for trouble though, and an open tournament… Arthur, it's just asking for trouble."

"You're still such a girl sometimes, Merlin," Arthur said, not realizing how much it stung, until Merlin pulled away from him, sniffing and rubbing his stomach again. Arthur caught him by the shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… It's nice, I suppose, to have someone worried about me."

"I hate it when you joust," Merlin said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"I'll be all right, you'll see. I just need one or two more pieces of armor." Merlin looked at him, confused, seeing him fully suited up. "My beloved's favor, and something else to remind me what and who I'm fighting for."

Merlin produced one of his old blue neckerchiefs. "I was hoping you'd ask," he told him, securing it to his champion's upper arm. Arthur drew him closer when he'd finished, fitting them together nearly perfectly, as only he could.

"How about my reminder now?" Merlin looked at him confusedly until Arthur captured his mouth in a kiss. Merlin smiled at him. "That's better," Arthur said. "You'll be watching, of course."

"As if I'd let you go out there alone. Of course I'll be there. Mithian and I will be sitting there worrying over our big brave men, like two damsels in distress."

Arthur laughed. "You're hardly that, either of you. Tell her I'll look after Leon, and he'll look after me, as we've always done."

"I will. Be careful, Arthur."

"Always am," Arthur said squeezing Merlin's hand before releasing it and leaving for the tournament field. Merlin allowed him the lie, walking slowly to the royal box in the stands.

It was just as bad as Merlin had feared it would be. He clung to Mithian each time Arthur was up to joust. The King unhorsed several knights from the surrounding kingdoms, and Leon did the same. He was glad he hadn't allowed Benjy and Hunith to come. He didn't want their son to be witness to some of the worse injuries. 

All too soon, it was Arthur's turn again. He faced off against a huge knight in Essetir's colors. Merlin gulped. Essetir was an ally, a member of the Five Kingdoms, but there was still an unease, a tension among some of the older ranks who had fought against Arthur and Camelot under Lot's, and even under Cenred's rule.

The two men rushed together, their lances shattering against each other's armor. Merlin let out his breath in a whoosh. Both were still seated, and seemed none the worse for wear, but that only meant they would go against each other again. Even though Merlin couldn't see it, he could imagine the evil glint in the Essetir knight's eye as he wheeled his horse around and accepted another lance.

"I can't watch," he told Mithian hiding his face in his robes. "Tell me when it's over."

The thundering of hooves, the sound of breaking lances, and the crowd's gasps only had Merlin more worried. Then Mithian was tugging at his arm insistently. But he didn't want to look.

"Merlin, Merlin, it's Arthur. Oh Merlin! Somebody, help him!" And Merlin finally dared to look.

Arthur had been unhorsed. Leon was helping the King to his feet, supporting him as they made their way off the jousting field. Arthur was clutching at his side, at the same spot Mordred's blade had pierced him. Merlin thought he saw blood.

"No! Mithian, I have to go to him." Mithian grasped his arm briefly, but didn't stop him leaving the royal box.

_No, no, no, not again. I can't almost lose him again._

By the time Merlin made it to Arthur's tent, his armor had been removed, and he was lying down, clutching at his side and gasping. A slight trickle of blood shone through his chainmail.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, rushing to his side.

"It's all right, Merlin. I'm all right," Arthur grunted, clearly in pain.

"No you're not, you clotpole. You're hurt."

"It isn't that bad," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "I'll be fine."

"I knew it, I just knew this tournament was a bad idea," Merlin muttered to himself, taking Arthur's hand that was held to his wound. Both their hands came away bloody. Merlin showed Arthur his hand. "You're bleeding, Arthur, and it looks to be in the same place as your wound from Camlann. You're hurt. Please, just let me heal it."

"No."

"Arthur, if I don't, you might…" he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"No, Merlin. You can't strain your magic. Not for me. Not, not now." Arthur's gaze rested on Merlin's stomach, and Merlin knew exactly what Arthur was thinking.

He was thinking about how ill, how weak Merlin had been after Benjy was born. Merlin knew Arthur still had nightmares about it, knew they had gotten worse since they'd discovered Merlin was with child again. But, he couldn't let Arthur suffer like this. Not when he could do something about it. 

"Arthur," he said, crouching down to be at eye level with him. "One healing spell is not going to hurt me or our child. I can help you. Please, let me do this. It's going to be all right."

Arthur looked at him, grimacing in pain, and finally nodded. Merlin got to his feet again, and reached out over Arthur's wound. His eyes glowed gold as he said, _"Gestrice blóddolg."_

The bleeding stopped. The throbbing pain reduced to a dull ache. Arthur sighed in relief, sitting up slowly, and pulling Merlin close.

"Thank you."

Merlin held him, keeping him close, weeping into his shoulder. "You are such a prat. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. Your tournament is over then, Arthur Pendragon. You can close it altogether, or you can watch the rest of it from the stands, but you are not competing. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, Merlin. I'm sorry I made you worry."

"You should be."

"Let's go find Mithian, then. She's probably as worried about you as you were about me."

"Dollop head."

"Clotpole."

"That's my word."

"As you're so fond of reminding me. Come on. The people need to see that their King is still breathing."

Arthur took Merlin's hand, tucking it under his arm, and the two of them made their way back to the stands.

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin's healing spell - Gestrice blóddolg - is Old English roughly translating to "Mend bleeding wound"


End file.
